Friday, December 23, 2011

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

There was a fire burning in the house that night. At first a small one, that started in the attic. With everyone distracted by a popular reality show, the fire began to spread... one by one destroying the life that dwelled within each object around the house.

The scrawny dog, who was tied in the attic caught a whiff of it, but before he could panic, a plank over him burst into flames, and as it fell, the ghostly smoke engulfed him, cutting off his oxygen supply as he burned to his death.

From the attic, the flames moved towards the next room, where a baby lay asleep. The calm sounds of breathing was taken over by the cracking of the flames...which began to surround her slowly, creeping closer by the minute, when the family finally noticed the stench of upcoming disaster... They ran towards the direction of the smoke and saw the baby who was just about to start crying. The smoke was getting thicker and the flames were moving faster, but nobody took a step forward. Nobody attempted to save the child that was about to be reduced to ashes. Nobody yelled or shouted for attention.

Frozen, they stood there... letting the flames and smoke muffle the babies tears. As the flames drew closer to them they ran out of the house, and dialled 911. There was a baby, but they forgot to mention it...

Soon the fire brigade, with tons of water, ready to save what was left a families home.

The breeze scattered scarred memories, burned clothes and the leftover ashes of a smiling photograph.

With all the noise and frantic behaviour... No one heard about the little baby girl in the house...

“My clothes,”

“My Money”

“My computer”

“My dog”...Were the shouts heard full of greed and selfishness...

Till one brave fireman walked into a room, full of burned down diapers and flaming bibs... He heard a crying noise amidst the flames and searched for the figure behind it.

And amidst a crib ablaze and smouldering, he found the little baby girl, scarred by her past but untouched by the flames. He said a quick prayer to God and wrapped her in a blanket... as he ran past the flames he hoped she would survive through it all.

Not stopping by the family that neglected her, the fireman furiously took her to an awaiting ambulance, where they checked the baby for burns and scars.... Scars that they found but burns were missing... Scars that were days old, which told a story more frightening than the fire.

Angered and enraged the fireman took the girl with him that day, refusing to let her family near her.

“Have your money and inanimate things, but you won’t touch her again,” he said

He fought her battles and saved her from hell... he made sure she was never hurt again he watched her grow each day... He watched her in a way her family never did and tried to make up for all the neglect she once faced/

And when he finally won the war... he took her home for the first time, as her father and not caretaker and prayed in thanks. He was thankful for that warm summer afternoon, where a man who was told he could never conceived, met his daughter, a child who should never have survived...

He was thankful for the day; two people found their miracle...a miracle in each other.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

It is a love story larger than life, larger than any love story you have ever heard of and will ever hear.

Let me tell you the story, like no other.

It is not your average boy meets girl, if you were looking for that please turn away now. This is for those who fall in love, not with a person but a notion.

Once upon a time, there a few men, passionate about their sport... they played for the love of it, they played for life itself. These men grew from nothing...to something. They found a home, they found someone to love them... and then they became a part of something bigger.

These 11 men became 22, 44... 66.. Generations of men, who started off the same way, became something, found shelter in the same house, the same academy.

Generations of men who were successful, who then became famous. And we fell in love.

Today, I’ll tell you the love story of a Liverpool supporter.

It all starts with one game.

One game that makes you fall in love. One player, one ball hitting the back of the net and you are captivated.

Success draws you in, you begin to grow passion. You laugh with them, you cry with them. You are infatuated.

And then things go wrong.

The success disappears, that one moment of glory never comes... the tears are real, the pain is real. People desert you... people mock you. You cry out in despair but that feeling of devotion goes no where...

This is a story where infatuation turns to love... not in one glorious moment but all the little moments of pain where you didn’t care. You promise you would stick by them forever.

This is true love.

You felt the frustration, you felt the anguish... but you never turn your back on them. Tell me people, isn;t this true love? You’ll Never Walk Alone...

It is a love story larger than life, larger than any love story you have ever heard of and will ever hear.

Let me tell you the story, like no other.

It is not your average boy meets girl, if you were looking for that please turn away now. This is for those who fall in love, not with a person but a notion.

Once upon a time, there a few men, passionate about their sport... they played for the love of it, they played for life itself. These men grew from nothing...to something. They found a home, they found someone to love them... and then they became a part of something bigger.

These 11 men became 22, 44... 66.. Generations of men, who started off the same way, became something, found shelter in the same house, the same academy.

Generations of men who were successful, who then became famous. And we fell in love.

Today, I’ll tell you the love story of a Liverpool supporter.

It all starts with one game.

One game that makes you fall in love. One player, one ball hitting the back of the net and you are captivated.

Success draws you in, you begin to grow passion. You laugh with them, you cry with them. You are infatuated.

And then things go wrong.

The success disappears, that one moment of glory never comes... the tears are real, the pain is real. People desert you... people mock you. You cry out in despair but that feeling of devotion goes no where...

This is a story where infatuation turns to love... not in one glorious moment but all the little moments of pain where you didn’t care. You promise you would stick by them forever.

This is true love.

You felt the frustration, you felt the anguish... but you never turn your back on them. Tell me people, isn;t this true love? You’ll Never Walk Alone...

Thursday, September 29, 2011

But when we were younger, life seemed full of complications... That age of insecurity, those lessons in betrayed and all that defined the years that shaped who we were to become ..Things could have gone so very wrong. Today I see students much younger than we were, who are more concerned about appearance, popularity and reputation and I am so grateful for the upbringing I had.

Sometimes, its not all down to the parents, even though credit goes to them too. Half my day with mum and half my day with a group of special people has made me who I am today.

Those special ones whoI have to thank for happiness are a few people who made me the person I should be. Some people who were always there for me, and still are. I know today, if I give any one of them a call, anytime of the day...they'll be there to help me.

I remember, that no matter how funny I looked, how stupid I acted, how not popular I was...they never judged me. They made me feel part of the group... and how rare is that nowadays?

This is my written tribute to those special ones, I grew up with. I will never ever forget the lesson in humility, compassion and friendship they taught me. :

I remember every single moment I spent. I remember2nd Grade, a really tall girl hiding my dolls and inviting me over all the time. In 4th Grade, another girl, with Angelina like lips trying to make me laugh and in7th Grade, playing basketball with a really pretty Arab/Asian , I remember9th Grade, meeting a girl who was named after a flower,10th grade, physics class full of drawings with a loud, hilarious friend. I remember Chemistry Classwith a fellow Goan who was more interested in pigeons than experiments. I remember the days before our IGCSE's where none of us came to class to study... but instead just to have crazy fun.

I can’t stop thinking of love affairs between classmates, and remaking classics like Macbeth, where less work was done and more laughter was found. I often have flashbacks of horribly uncoordinated cricket matches, or getting trashed 26-6 inbasketball.

I was shy, quiet, and reserved.... till these girls washed all of that away, be it with sarcasm, water fights, beating, or just being lazy, they changed me for life. Some might havebroken classroomlocker doors or many test-tubes in the chem lab...but the most important lesson we learned, was how to get out of trouble!

Now i realise how easy happiness is to find. I know where it lies, where I truly belong and even in the long run, whether I’m married, single, rich, poor, I know where to find happiness.

Some moments may not have been pleasant (hint :being run over by a dune buggy), and some may not be pain free (Getting whacked in the shin while playing football)but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

There might have been people I didn’t like back then, but as I get on in life, I look back and realise I still love them, no matter what. Now, on meeting people in the "real world" I wonder why I ever hated people in school! They were angels compared to those I know now!

As Christmas nears, I remember carolling at Marriottand as the New Year dawns; I remember all those years that began in class, meeting those people who were special,laughing our way down the corridor.

I remember all those football matches that were supposed to happen, but we ended up sitting on the grass and chatting.

I remember birthdays in school and the demands for chocolates, and theend of year class parties where the tables were overflowing with food, and we finished almost everything out there!

I think of those trips to weird factories and science placesand the fun we had even though it was supposed to be terribly boring. Every time I see a school bus I remember those special people, at the back laughing, singing and dancing...sometimes getting bumped in the head when we hit a speed breaker. I remember fighting with kids and getting bullied by juniors!

I cant stop thinking of the French class trip to the Burj Al Arab, where fascination was the key word, and the assignment on the trip was never submitted.

Happiness. It’s undefinable isn’t it? It’s like those birthdays I spent with few special friends, those 4-1 games where we bought the pub down, those tequila shots and bad karaokenights. School concerts, that might have been a drag, those should-have-been-recorded moments like a specialsomeone falling on stage, or adune buggydoing somersaultsmaybe even ruining a batch of bbq chicken!

I loved those exhibitions where we painted class walls instead of paper, and those music classes singing “Coconuts”, a certain blonde and her blonde moments, I miss our animalistic howlsand being called the worst class ever.

We might have been the worst class ever... but we were the best family we could ever have.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Privet Drive was where it all began.... I was thirteen when I got on to Hogwarts express and started on a journey that would define my childhood.
As a kid, you do tend to believe in magic, in tooth fairies, in the Easter bunny and in Santa Claus. As a kid, I could believe that Harry Potter did exist. My villain was Voldemort and my best friend was Ron. I fell in love with Cedric Diggory and I hated Cho Chang. I was smart like Hermione, a red head like the Weasleys, forgetful like Neville and vicious like the Malfoys’.
And each year passed, each new book that came out... it grew with me. Harry turned a year old, as did I. From the first day of school, to the first prom...we went through it together.
Today I am 21 and its all come to an end. The day was here when I thought to myself, ‘that is it’. No more Harry Potter, just like that child who realised Santa didn’t exist or the boy who waited for the tooth fairy who never came. Should I break down and cry? Should I question the purpose of my life?
It is now that I realise, J’K Rowling has given me a gift that no one could have ever given me. The gift of childhood. I know, that when I’m 85 and in a wheelchair, I can turn open The Philosophers Stone, and be back on that train to Hogwarts... I can look for Ron and Harry and Hermione besides me. I can feel young again. I know this because at 21, if I open up any of the Harry Potter books. I feel the excitement I felt when I first read them.
I can still feel the nervousness before the Triwizard Tournament, the sadness when Fred died, the tingles when Harry kissed Ginny...I know I can feel the pain at turning to the last page of The Deathly Hallows, that I once felt, all over again... but then I remember. I can go back to the beginning... and just like the Mirror Of Erised I can be exactly where I want to at that moment.

If I ever get a chance to meet J.K Rowling, I would thank her. I would thank her for giving me something to believe in, for giving me something to have faith in... something to relive when times got tough. I would thank her for making my life a lot more exciting than it could have been.
Harry Potter, is a time-turner, the fountain of youth and the potion of happiness all in one. It is the greatest gift anyone could ever ask for.
I know that when my first child is old enough to read, I will gift him/her the first Harry Potter book and tell them, that no matter what... they’re childhood will never leave them behind. No matter what, this is one journey that will never end...
Harry Potter, the boy who lived... would forever live on, whether J.K Rowling continues to write...or not.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Her mother used to tell her to stay away from boys. She always thought they were evil... the way they leered at her when she walked out late nights, it scared her into believing her mother’s words. She walked quickly past the boys, and avoided talking to them men. As she grew older, her mothers words stayed with her... She was naive, she knew that but then she met him. He taught her boys could be sweet. He showed her how different the world could be, he taught her to feel, from the tingles to the butterflies... She felt safer and began to trust him. He stole her heart and gave her life, the memories of who she was washed away. She learned that she was beautiful, cute, funny and annoying at the same time... she learned that she knew how to care. Most of all, she learned that her mother was wrong. She grew dependent on him and he told her he’d never leave. She built the walls around him and felt strong and loved. She grew dependent on his smile, on his voice and on his smell... She’d worry if she didn’t hear from him...

And then he died

Her mother was right, she should have stayed away. Today, she would be happier... The hollow in her chest that once was the resting place of her heart, felt like a slow killing cancer. She wept and wept, all broken and alone. She felt like she could live no more, every night she lay on the bed and wished God to send him back. She’d shut her eyes tight and beg in prayer, but disappointment awaited her. In the mornings she’ wake up praying he would be next to her... but she never had her way. She cried herself all day and night, throwing up continuously and binge eating through her pain. As time went by she stayed all alone, in her house all by herself. She stopped walking past the mirrors for the sight of herself horrified her, she was fat and ugly and all the things he told her she wasn’t...
If she could lie in the dark with his scent in the air, she would feel beautiful, she could pretend he was next to her.
As the days past, she began to get sicker... her hunger grew and waistline expanded and she began to worry. 25 Days passed till she suddenly realised....

he was never gone. Her love , her man... he left a part of him behind and as she looked at herself in the mirror once again... She saw the change in her.She could feel him, in the centre of her belly...growing as each day passed... And She knew in less than 9 months, she’d have him in her arms once again

Once again she turned to the picture on the wall and said “Mama, you were wrong”

Thursday, August 4, 2011

I saw her at a bus-stand on a cold evening, she was old and wrinkled. Her face showed years of frowns, smiles and tears... all leaving a trail around her eyes. I didn’t realise I was watching her... as she took tiny steps towards the bus, almost like a child. She was on the thinner side, a little frail and I wondered if the autumn breeze would carry her away. Her eyes were distant as if she were looking into her past, wondering where it all came apart, and there was a tinge of sadness surrounding her. She reached the empty bus-stand and sat on a long, rusty bench, that creaked with the weight of her world.

I could see her from the stairs of my house where I was sitting, buses came and went but she made no attempt to move. It was getting dark when I began to get curious...Was she lost, or waiting for someone? It was too cold for an old lady to be sitting outside at that time. I walked up to her and said hi.

She looked at me, and smiled the most genuine smile I had ever seen. It was the first time someone had spoken to her. I smiled back and asked her if I could have a seat, she agreed almost gratefully. Sitting there in silence for a few minutes, I began to get impatient... There was a match on television that I needed to watch, so I asked her if she was waiting for someone.

“No,” she said, sadly.

Then I asked her if she was lost

“No,” she replied again...

Getting a bit worried, I asked her if she was going to stay there the whole night or go home...

“I am home,” she said.

She didn’t look homeless, I thought.So I asked her if she was feeling cold...

“Honey, I stopped feeling ages ago...” I decided not to press her and said goodnight.

She was at the back of my mind all day, and I wondered if everything was alright. The next day there she was again, at the bus-stand... as if she didn’t move at all. I began to get used to her being there. I’d look out of my window to make sure she was alright, and sometimes even take her a cup of coffee. She’d act like I paid her rent, when I offered her the cup. As if I just did the sweetest thing in the world, but I felt horrible. Why wasn’t someone taking care of her? Why didn’t she have a home, children?

I decided to ask her after seeing her there for nearly a week, and her reply stunned me.

“I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything. I know this place, I know that I’m supposed to be here and I’m hoping I’ll remember someday. I am drawn her every moment but I have no idea why. The number on this stop, 16A keeps playing in my mind, but I don’t know why. I hate not knowing, I feel like I’m missing something when i’m not here. Like something is about to happen and I might miss it.”

“What about your family? Do you have children?” I asked her.

“Yes, two boys...16 years old. They are beautiful, they look just like my husband”

I was puzzled, if she had children why was she here all night alone. So I asked her where her children were

“I don’t remember, I saw them here last. I know that, I feel that... but I don’t know what happened.”

I asked her to go home, I told her no one is here, but she said they would come for her. I sat with her that evening, for hours trying to get her to remember.

She told me stories of her love, of her boys playing baseball, she described each feeling and at the end of the day I could picture their eyes, their smile, the feeling of being loved... but with each of that there was a heaviness in my heart.

Why was she here alone? What happened that was so traumatic she didn’t remember anything? What made her come here and wait all night...?

I always imagined my life when I grew old, to be loved and cared for, to have children and grandchildren. But how would it feel, not to remember at all?

I decided to spend time with her everyday, I was interested in her life... I began a quest to bring back her memories, but in vain. She sat in the cold everyday but could only keep recollecting the mischievious smiles of her sons as they ran around the house...she couldn’t remember their names but she sat there waiting for them. They had to be at least 30 years old now, but she waited and waited, she knew they would come.

On the day before Christmas eve, I decided to ask around the neighbourhood if anyone knew the old lady.

Most people ignored me, and some said “She’s probably just homeless.” I finally decided to ask one last person, a librarian neighbour of mine. She looked out of the window at the lady with a sad expression on her face and told me to sit down.

“Her name is Eva. Nearly 25 years ago, she had come to pick her children up at the bus-stop. While running, a truck sped straight into them. They died in front of her eyes. Since then she’s in a state of trance, doesn’t remember anything. They say the trauma wiped out her memory. She just sits there waiting for them, it’s sad actually.”

I agreed, it was truly devastating... looking out at Eva doze off on the bench, I couldn’t help wonder how I would cope with such a situation. Sometimes, I think I’m strong... but even I don’t know how I would handle losing someone so close to me.

I decided to do something to make a difference. I wanted to cook her a warm meal, get her a blanket and make sure she’s comfortable. She was asleep when I went downstairs with the plate, and she woke up and smiled at me as I nudged her. The smell of food and the sight of a blanket made her eyes water, whether out of delight or shock I till date do not know. She smiled at me and said, “I have a good feeling,”

“Why I asked her,” glad she was in a good mood

“I saw my sons today... while I slept. I feel them nearby”

It took all my willpower not to cry but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her... so I sat with her, stared into the stars and talked about her children.

The next evening I saw her dozed off again, covered in my blanket so I went downstairs with some soup. Itwas Christmas and I wasn’t going to leave her alone. I nudged her awake but this time she didn’t move. As the blanket fell off, I saw that she was smiling...

The wind howled and I dropped the soup in fear. I tried to move her but was met with a scary stillness that I was not ready for...

I turned around to run, but stopped when I saw her face again, that smile was so peaceful and beautiful, its whenI realised...

Friday, July 22, 2011

I'm clearly not a romantic. I'm not over-the-top cheesy or a love addict. I'm just a normal girl, looking for someone I'm comfortable to spend the rest of my life with, rather than the spontaneous, mad romance. When I watch movies, I don't giggle, or blush or cry. When I see marriage proposals, I don't wish it were me, most of the times... but at the end of the day I am a girl. While I don't get excited at the thought of a man whisking a woman away to a foreign country, buying her tons of jewellery or screaming of his love to the world, I find something comforting and beautiful in some marriage proposals. The thought of spending your life with one person, one partner that you are comfortable with, who you find beautiful even when he's old, wrinkly, cranky and annoying... that enchants me... I like the thought of having the same warm shoulder of someone I love for the rest of my life. I'm not one for whirlwind romances, I'm a person who believes in friendship and comfort more than anything else.

Today I have put together some of my favourite movie marriage proposals.(Guys, pay attention!)
My top 10, of the most beautiful words ever said to a woman, in an equally beautiful situations... these scene's might not have got me all teary but they sure did give me goosebumps.

10) Sweet Home Alabama

Ok, Firstly, Who doesn't want to be proposed to like that? "Pick One" would be a winner for any woman, but theres something really sweet and comforting in the way he proposes, Its romantic, and theres even a hint of humour, something I love in a man! Dempsey sure knows how to work this proposal, without too many words! They might not have lasted, but I'm sure he sincerely believed it would

9) The Wedding Singer

We all know Sandler to be usually the goofy type, but he sure does surprise me with this proposal. I love the thought of a man singing his wedding proposal to me, even if it is on an aircraft! The lyrics to the song are exceptionally sweet ...

I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad Carry you around when your arthritis is bad Oh all I wanna do is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches Build you a fire if the furnace breaks Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

I don't think I could ask for anything to be said that is more beautiful that the lyrics of this song if someone were to sing for me..

8) License To Wed

"I just want to know if you would spend the rest of your life with me...."
"Benjamin Murphy, I would marry you tomorrow in a potato sack dress, in the middle of a rainstorm, if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you"

..... Enough Said.

7) Walk the Line

A lot of movies have romantic proposals, but what makes this one stand out is that they were never as real as this. Johnny and June did exist, this really did happen and sometimes when I watch this on a bad day, It suddenly makes me feel better

6) Serendipity

Now this is what I call special. The candles, the effort, the way the ring was presented to her, all the boxes! Simple, but really cute!

5) A Walk To Remember

Anyone who has watched this movie will understand why I have picked it as my number 5... Its not the words he said, but the manner in which he proposes, the story behind it all... the way he treats her, you just know if she lived long enough he'd spend his entire lifetime with her and with the world going the way it is now, that seems to be the biggest accomplishment.

4) Thumbelina

We all remember those days when we believed fairytales came true... this one proposal might not be real but it is cute in all the possible ways. I love it, it makes me happy... thats why I've put it at number 4, because if it makes me happy , then thats one proposal I could to be successful!

3) Grey's Anatomy

'You say you're all dark and twisty. It's not a flaw, it's a strength. It makes you who you are. I'm not gonna get down one knee, I'm not gonna ask a question. I love you, Meredith Grey, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'

For a man who can accept you for who you are, make a difference in your life, find you special no matter how weird you think you are, now that's what I ask for. Someone who wants to spend their life with me, no matter how ugly I look at 4 am, no matter how silly I behave, no matter how lame my jokes are and no matter how cranky I can be... if he gets there and tells me he still loves me and wants to spend the rest of their life with me, why in the world would I say no?

I wasn't a big fan of the movie, but I do like Jennifer Aniston and I liked Ben Affleck after this movie ... till date I can't explain what made me like this proposal so much. Maybe it was the sincerity in which Ben Affleck proposes, I find it genuine, honest and heart warming.

and finally..

1) F.R.I.E.N.D.S

How this not be my number one! This has to be the most memorable proposal in my head... I've never forgotten this... it's perfect. It makes me nostalgic for the days I used to sit around and wait for a new episode of friends to play on the television. Chandler and Monica, to me, were the perfect couple, in all their imperfections...

"I thought that it mattered, what I said or where I said. Then I realised the only thing that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be & If you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way"

Watching this, was the first time I realised, a guy proposing could be a good thing, I remember my heart skipping a beat, I remember thinking, Wow... I'd never felt that way before, and at that point I was just a kid... years later this proposal still gives me goosebumps. I love it and I know in all the years to come, I will never forget this one episode...

Monday, July 18, 2011

They say prostitution is a matter of choice, they say it’s not hard to say no, but tell that to the woman who was forced into it by her parents, tell that to the child who was abandoned and needed food to eat, tell that to the young girl that nobody loved and they’d ask you where did the matter of choice really come in? People should turn away from the blind notion that there are two types of prostitution, voluntary and involuntary.
Despite chauvinistic belief spurred by male ignorance, women do not want to be treated like objects, they do not wanted to be sold, used, controlled or degraded. What human being doesn’t want love, respect and dignity? Is it really possible to divorce oneself from their body and to feel nothing at all? The choice here is between running into a brick wall or equally hard place...
Yes, woman have a right to do what they want with their bodies, we live in a generation where male domination is almost diminished, so why would a woman want the privilege of being in control of their physical self, just to throw it away in the name of money?
There are woman within societies who convince themselves that prostitution is a matter of choice. They believe that they have made the decision to sell their bodies, maybe so they feel themselves to be in control of some aspect of their lives. It is their decision how to go about their lives, and we are no one to call them criminals. Legalizing prostitution might be something men might be overjoyed about, but for women, it is about being treated with respect, being given the benefits of a working class girl and not cast in the same category as a felon.
A lot of women are driven into prostitution by poverty; a lot of parents are to be blamed for poor parenting. If it were possible for a girl or woman to live a comfortable, secure life, be loved and independent, would she really turn to prostitution? Instead of chasing after women linked to the profession, the people in charge need to go after men who prowl the streets, looking for women to abuse and rape, they need to corner parents who lead their children into such situations, be it through child abuse or neglect. Pimps who force woman into prostitution by beating them and threatening them should be sentenced for life, instead of the innocent women led on by such men.
Prostitution is too ugly a world for a beautiful woman to want to be in, it is a daily series of force, beating, threats and abuse. No 14 year old girl decides to be a prostitute of her own will, they see no other option. She won’t walk on the roads and lay down a price for herself, she is coerced by others. She is promised security, stability, attention and maybe even love. She is a victim not a criminal.

Stop convincing yourself that prostitution is a choice. Prostitution for some is inevitable, Ignorance is a CHOICE.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The flaming beauty in her eyes, that gave one chills if he ever looked at her, hid a story of more than just a lover lost. It spoke more of a broken heart, or a worn down life. It spoke of the struggle she survived. It spoke of a heroic woman, whose strength knew no boundaries. She stood up for the world, for righteousness and ethics. She made sacrifices to be where she was, because she knew she deserved it. She was with a calloused heart but its rhythm was perfect, its ability to love was un-dead.

She caught the eye of every passerby, with those soulful eyes, and genuine smile. Everyone wanted to know her, to take care of her... but she’d been too hurt to let someone in again. She stood strong, yes, but she was unwilling to make the same mistakes again. A glimmer of exhaustion shown on her face was the tip of the ice-berg. Beyond the surface was a tired woman just longing for the joys of stability in life? She didn’t dare trust again, but she showed great love and affection for those close to her. Her daughter was the joy of her life and she would run to the ends of the world for her, because she knew it was her daughter who would carry the legacy of her father. She knew that Kayla was all that was left of him. In her was her love, her pride, her joy, her laughter, her fun. Only heavens knew what she’d do without her. Losing one person she loved was hard enough. Even at only 6, Kayla was exactly like her father, and sometimes she had to work hard not to reveal the tears of longing for the man who was her whole life. Her anguish and desperation at not having him next to her would not affect her love for her daughter. She knew if he was around, he would want the best for his daughter and she wanted to make sure that happened. Kayla would never know the pain her mother felt at looking at the hazel eyes, cheeky smile and mischievous look that so defined her father.Every night, after tucking Kayla into bed, she cried for him, waiting on the stars for her wish, for her life to begin from where it started. She wouldn’t change a thing, no she would do it all over again but to live those moments with her love once more, what she wouldn’t give? She waited and waited, with only her loneliness surrounding her, and silence being a deafening factor all through the night. She wanted to scream, she wanted to fight, demand for him back, but he was gone.

She had to stay strong, for Kayla... for people who looked up to her, because she was a hero now. She was what everyone longed to be...She stood up for the weak, she made a difference even though it cost her everything because she wanted the world to know that just two people could change the world. She fought through every battle, every trial thrown her way, she held her head up high and even in his death she did not stumble.

She watched them carry him away, body cold as ice... the mischievous look in his eyes quelled to serenity and she wanted to break down but she couldn’t. He didn’t die in vain, she would life for him. To show the world that she could survive on merely his memory.

The strength of a woman, of a wife and a mother cannot be competed with. There is nothing stronger that she is. A woman is... She will live through the hurricanes, tornado’s, cyclones of life yet come on stronger than she was before because more than anything... she is a woman.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Everyday, for the next few days I will write a little note to someone special.
Only that person will know who they are, and those close to me can take a guess.
Each day I will cherish the memories Ive had, and pay tribute to those who played a major role in my life, people who made me who I am

Day One : The One I Miss The Most

School days were a pain. I hated studying and hated life, but thinking back on those times they weren't to bad. I had people next to me who made life worthwhile.

You were one of them . Company in class, partners in basketball games, someone to show me that shopping, wasn't really that bad a thing. It's been more than 2 years, I haven't seen your face, and it's not this sappy cheesy thing where I can;t live without old friends, but distance has shown me who truly had an impact on my life. I know that I'd do anything to go back for another one of those days, where we did nothing but hang out at malls, make fun of people and talk about school days.
People disagree, people have fights, but for some bizarre reason, I dont remember us having any issues like that. We didn't even fight over silly things like football or cricket teams, music choices or even movie preferences. Maybe I just don't remember the bad things anymore, or maybe there was no bad moments.
The game was United was probably one of the best days of my life, maybe its because I miss you , maybe its because I miss Liverpool winning so much... But everytime I watch a major football game, I wish I was back there.
Everytime I see a Cosmo , or a tequila shot, I don't feel the same . Back then it was about having fun, now all it is, is a glass of alcohol that doesnt really do much for me.

There's so much I wish I could share with you today, I wish you could meet the love of my life, or watch the final Harry Potter with me. I wish you were there when we bought Jazz home, or when Sylvie died. Shopping doesn't feel the same, neither does parties. Great books are incomplete without someone to discuss it with and my music choice has just dulled without someone who finds some of the most awesome music out there.
Yes, I have made great friends here, but none I get along with as much as I did with the people back in Dubai. No one that I have known for half my life. No one who knows my mood swings, how easily I get upset, how difficult some memories of my past are, how shy I can be at times, How football crazy I am. No one truly understands it anymore. I know traditionally, I should go on thanking you for being there, being a friend etc, but seriously? Thats not going to happen.
I know you don't need all that, so all I'm gonna say for now is what you read in the next few lines...

What today's note is about, is you. It is my way of saying, I Remember. I remember every single moment, every single memory, and I pray for it not to be our last.

They say don't look back, but what if looking back is the only thing that keeps me sane enough to move forward?

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

This was something I wrote when I was 14... Thought I'd repost it since I found it again. Its been a while since I've stopped writing poetry, probably because I when I lost everything, when I gave it up... I let go of this too. The reason Im picking it up again was because I found a letter from a teacher that said , whatever you do, never give up your poetry.

I'll never meet that teacher again, but I'll follow that piece of advice. I'll do it for her

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Her eyes were flaming passion, her smile was divine, her tears were liquid diamond, her skin flawless porcelain.

In her life and in her death, she personified beauty. She was inspiring, charming and most of all she was brave.

Everyone wanted to be her, everyone longed to meet her. She was a younger Mother Theresa, with a large heart and lifes worth of compassion.

The camera loved her, the people loved her and God loved her too. As much as we wanted her by our side, HE did too and took her away too soon for many to accept. She was truly just too good for us...

Life isn't just about ones ownself. Princess Diana bought change in the world, she helped change peoples opinion on AIDS, she embraced leprosy patients and helped bringing eating disorders to public awareness. Along with a multitude of charity organisations that she supported Princess Diana was truly worthy of the title "Princess". She had her flaws and made mistakes, reminding us that even a member of the Royal is human. She broke down, had fun, got nervous, laughed, cried and everything a normal human being would do...

What was most honorable about her was that all her charity and support for the less fortunated were done without publicizing it, it wasn't done for attention but because she was truly compassionate and generous. She could not see people suffering and always wanted to make a difference

She was human, humane. She what a princess should be, what any leader should be.

Today,I still say "Princess" Diana, because even though she wasn't married to the Prince when she died, she will always be a Princess in our eyes.

It wasn't an accident, she didn't get killed, she was taken away because she was too beautiful, kind, loving and generous for us....

Perfection doesn't exist, but one woman who was imperfectly perfect passed away on 31 August 1997...

Sunday, March 13, 2011

I am only 5 and I am different. I do not like to talk but I listen if you want me to. I do not show it but I do care. My mummy says I'm special, she tells me that I see the world different but the man in a white coat used the word Austisic. Mummy tells me thats a special word for special, I'm so special that I have my own word. She tells me I'm beautiful. My daddy says i'm daddy's special little girl

I dont want to be special because I get angry and I yell and scream. Daddy gets upset.

I am 8 and they are making fun of me. They laugh at my bag and my toys because I am too old for it, but I love my toys. They push me down and hurt my hand. Mummy gives me candy and kisses my hurt. Daddy says I'm his brave baby, but no one stops them. They call me special, but why can't I be just another human like you?

I am 9 and they took red teddy away, I cry and cry but no one cares. I dont wan't a new teddy its not the same. I don't have any friends, but mummy says thats because I'm special and they are jealous. I don't have anything to say in class and they call me stupid. Am I really stupid? Mummy said I was autistic, but autistic is special... I dont want to be special. I want to be me.

I am 10 and alone. Daddy said he was tired and mummy was crying. Daddy closed to door and he is not coming back. Is it because of me? Is it because I am special? Daddy I am not, please come back. I'll be unspecial. Daddy said I was mental, Am I made out of metal? Im just a little girl, daddy. I'm not metal.

Please don't treat me special, I'm just a little girl.When I grow up, I w0n't be special. I'll go to school and have friends laughing. I'll play on the swings and write in my book, When someone takes my things away I won't scream or cry, I'll just learn to smile. I'll learn to talk, I'll dance and sing and be unspecial.My daddy will come back because he loves me, and my mummy will hug me and say I'm the best.

I don't want to be special, not daddy's special girl, not autistic freak, not special sweetheart. What's so special about being special? Nothing...I just want to be a little girl.

Hello!

Welcome to Angelica's World. I'm your host into this absurd blog that is product of my deviant mind. You will be entertained thoroughly, I'm sure, by my constant posts related to football, art, music, movies and everyday life stories. Expect lots of photos and bizarre talk. Have a nice day, and do feel free to respond or ask me anything. I'm always around!